At Times Like These
by JustAnotherAuthorDurping
Summary: Post war Tokka;; For Tokka week's second day 'When I'm With You' prompt. Four occurences throughout Sokka and Toph's relationship when 'being with you' has a different meaning. Rated T for a minor sensuous situation.


A/N: This is for Tokka week's prompt 'When I'm With You'. These are very random and are not in any particular order at all (I'm not even sure if they coincide with one another), and to be quite honest I am not fond of any of them. But I promised I'd write for every prompt, so here we go. **Reviews** are definitely appreciated - how else will I know if you liked this?

At Times Like These: 

**1. Feeling Like an Idiot**

He runs his finger through the dirt carefully, creating new lines and curves, making sure each movement is well paced and defined so she can focus. Her lips are contorted into a small line as he draws, and then gradually fall into an appalled frown, her eyebrows narrowing together.

But he doesn't stop, unaware of the look on her face. He himself has his brow pinched in deep concentration and his mouth juts out, pouting slightly.

This plays on for another few minutes – several times he pauses and erases a line in displeasure, only to redraw it, have it look _exactly the same_, but continue on pleased anyway. She waits patiently, finding this lesson more amusing then helpful. From his pulse and posture, she can tell his focus is hard and unwavering, despite the fact that even she knows (when she is _blind_!) that his dirt drawing looks nothing like -.

"Done!" he exclaims proudly, leaning back on a palm. "So…" he prods eagerly, "how does it look?"

Even though it does not make a difference, she leans over his drawing, pretending to take a moment to actually study and access it. Her mint green eyes narrow and lift towards his general direction.

"It looks like… a dead boar-q-pine," she declares, placing her elbow on her knee and then her cheek in her palm.

Sitting up quickly, he cries out, "What?! No, it's supposed to be you!"

She points a finger at the dirt drawing where spiky things are protruding from an oval. "Since when do I have spikes coming out of my head?"

"Those are your bangs!"

"It looks like I could kill someone with them. And what are those?"

"Those are your hair puff things!"

"That take up half my face?"

"Well they _are_ poofy!"

She snorts. "It looks like you drew Appa on my face. And speaking of which, what the heck is that?"

He sputters and tries to explain the logic behind his drawing (_that_ is _clearly_ a nose!) and she listens and asks more questions until he is groaning about how she can't _even_ draw, but she is still snickering and laughing so hard that tears fall down her cheeks. He scribbles the picture out in defeat but cannot maintain a scowl at the site of her. She is so filled with mirth (and even if it is at his expense) that he can't help but smile just a little.

_When I'm with you, you always find some way to make me feel like an idiot… and I actually don't mind it._

* * *

**2. You Take My Breath Away**

She always complains that it takes her forever to get a dress off.

However, when he is there, it is an entirely different case.

His mouth desperately finds hers again, melting them into another kiss that extracts groans from them both, their lips and tongues battling together furiously. His fingers dance and flit up her back, struggling with the never-ending buttons and clasps of the gown that are stubborn to keep him out, but he manages quite well, having done so before.

Eagerly, she winds her arm around his neck even more tightly and tugs at his hair hastily, pulling it loose from its usual wolf tail then running her fingers through its fine strands. Her other hand busies itself by groping at the cloth of his tunic, separating it easily enough along with his trousers just as he finishes with her dress and peels it off.

And then his hands are everywhere – her waist, her chest, and her thighs, surely in attempts to drive her off the edge of control. Her mouth leaves his and travels up his neck to his earlobe, nipping and kissing and teasing the flesh, and he moans her name because surely this is _her_ attempt to drive _him_ off the edge of control, and it's working.

"_Toph_…"

She smirks against his ear. "Yeah, Sokka?"

He says nothing, but instead presses his lips to her eyes, cheeks, and then finally her mouth, his movements ardent and lost like those of a first time lover.

_When I'm with you, I can hardly breathe_.

* * *

**3. There For You**

She observes him from afar; his pulse is slow and she can feel him slouching, his body language reading that of someone that has given up. She knows he wants to be alone, but she also knows that he is silently calling out for someone to be with him and that person has to be her. And so she silently pads across the clearing towards him.

The steady increase of his heartbeat informs her that he knows she's there, but he doesn't say a word and neither does she. She just quietly sits next to him, her feet dangling in the coolness of the stream before them, allowing the water to drag the dirt off her toes and soles.

He is too wrapped up in his own sorrow and grief to say a word. In his lap lies a blue metal helm that resembles a wolfs head. Black, ugly scorch marks mar the sides of the helm that was once so clean and with a thumb he rubs at the darkened areas, trying to erase the stains as though it would erase the permanent effect they had caused.

His eyes burn with unshed tears and his hands clench with heated rage, because he doesn't understand what kind of _bastard_ could do such a thing. He doesn't understand why this had to happen, only five years after the war had ended and peace was supposed to reign once more.

He allows his eyelids to fall shut and then he feels it – a cold, small hand settling on top of his. Looking up, he sees her unclenching his fist and lacing her fingers through his slowly, softly. She squeezes his hand gently as though to say, hey, I'm here for you.

He feels his heart lift ever so slightly. Saying nothing, he merely squeezes her hand back, his message getting across to her clearly.

_When I'm with you, it doesn't hurt so badly._

* * *

**4. Our Tale**

People had always known from the start they would end up together.

Despite the fact that when they first met he already had a 'sort of girlfriend', there was just something between them that screamed they were, as cliché as it had seemed, 'meant to be'. Of course 'meant to be' did not happen right away, but since when did things ever work out that easily?

At first they were just friends. He was at his prime age of teen-hood, a whopping fifteen years old, and she was still twelve, hardly a young lady. She developed a crush rather quickly for the boy, but she kept it to herself and retained their friendship like any other – they hung out, made sarcastic quips, scammed scammers, and made the most of the life they had during a period of war. Over time, they gradually began to open up to one another, developing a bond of trust that could not be broken, and they became best friends.

Even when his 'sort of girlfriend' returned and became just 'his girlfriend', his best friend was still by his side to listen to his romance troubles and try to help in any way possible, even if that meant giving him advice that would help him keep up his relationship. His best friend was of course jealous of his girlfriend, but she had told herself enough that if it made him happy, she would go along with it. Even if it did break her heart in the process.

The boy remained with his girlfriend for a few years, but like all things sweet, it eventually had to end at some point. And when it did end, he turned to his best friend for support. Once again, she was there to cheer him up a by any means necessary and it worked. By the end of a month, he was over his break up they were both hanging around one another every day just like they used to. And one night after a lengthy discussion, they decided it'd be best if they traveled together again, just like old times.

They were still just friends, but by that time, she was the ripe age of eighteen and he had just turned twenty-one. Though they still participated in their usual antics, something deeper grew between them that they did not recognize until one night, two years after they left to venture the world together, he simply kissed her.

After that, they still remained best friends but they were now much more then _just_ best friends. No one was surprised by this development (after all, they knew it'd happen even before _the pair_ did) but when the happy couple was asked why?, they never answered. They merely shared a snicker and continued on their way, his arm slung over her shoulders and her arm around his waist.

Of course they knew the reason why. And wasn't it the most obvious thing? How could people not _see_ it?

_Because when I'm with you, I can be myself._


End file.
